


Whatever You Need

by serae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serae/pseuds/serae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is written as an event filler for a mission that some Elven Inquisitors may encounter on the war table.  It was odd that no one mentions this specific defeat in the game outside of the war room missive.  This is meant to be a prelude to a romantic relationship with Cullen.  Includes friendship with Dorian.  Warm and fuzzy feelings ahead!  Spoiler specific summary in top note.  Written with as few details about the Inquisitor as I could manage.  I hope it makes it easier for the reader to place their own character in her place.  Cheers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> During my play through I had the unfortunate War Table mission which led to the annihilation of Clan Lavellan. I found it strange that no a word of it was mentioned outside of the written missive the player reads about it. This is a written piece of some events that I feel is a great pre-lude to a romance with Cullen. Bonus section with Dorian.

The advisors of the Inquisitions remained tight lipped as they had passed around the missive that informed them of Clan Lavellan’s loss. It had seemed such a small thing at the time to protect the Inquisitor’s home from a few lyrium addled nobles. They had discussed it at great length and decided that, like with many nobles, this was all part of The Game. A delicate hand in the art of conversation should have been ideal to set things right. Together the Inquisitor and her advisors agreed on a plan of action and followed through. 

Each of the three Inquisition advisors struggled at the war table when the news of their failure had reached them. They had had wins and losses but this one was going to deeply hurt their leader.

“Let me tell her. It might be better coming from me. It was my task to complete and it is my obligation to inform her,” Josephine sighed. 

“I am inclined to not tell her.” Leliana suggested with a deep frown. 

Cullen startled at her suggestion. “Absolutely not. We cannot keep this kind of news from her.” He waves his hand in front of him, dismissing the idea with every bone in his body.

“Just consider what I am suggesting,” The red haired spymaster laid her hands upon the war table and leaned into them. “She is under so much stress as it is. Much is expected of her. Could this blow distract her from the goal at hand? This is her entire clan and family that has been lost. Herald of Andraste or not, this will not leave her unmarked. We need her at her best.” Shifting under her own weight she sighed, “Perhaps we should wait to tell her?”

Josephine laid down her writing tablet and laid a comforting hand on Leliana’s shoulder. “I understand why you would consider this. It’s a valid suggestion but if we are to reclaim any trust after this error, then we need to be forthcoming with her. She needs to know that we will always keep her informed of all things.”

Quiet filled the air as the three of them seemed to silently agree that the Lady Inquisitor needed to be told. Or perhaps the silence was a reflection of the sorrow they all held on behalf of Lavellan and their shame for having let her down. The stillness was interrupted by the sound of steps approaching the war room. As the doors opened loudly, the eyes of all dropped to the floor as if by an invisible force. Lavellan, Lady Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, Dalish Elf, and unknowingly the last of her clan closed the door behind her as she entered. Ever the observant type, she noted the downcast looks of her advisors. “This,” she gestured at the three of them, “this right here is not a welcome sight. What has happened?” She walked to the war table and hoped the answer to the strange emotional aura in the room would lie somewhere on the map.

“Inquisitor…” Cullen began, his voice low. His hand lightly touched the miniature on the map where her clan had been and was the smallest of motions that came quickly to her attention. “We have some difficult news to tell you.”  
She looked from the place on the map Cullen’s hand rested and then to the faces of each of her advisors. They all had visible difficulty looking her in the face. She took a sharp breath and leaned onto the table, emulating Leliana who had barely moved an inch. Josephine walked around the war table to Lavellan and placed both had hands upon the elf’s upper arms. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but we have just received news that your clan, Clan Lavellan, has been attacked. As far as we know there were no survivors.”

The sharp breath of air the Inquisitor had sucked in a moment earlier was not enough air to sustain her. She felt like she could not breathe but merely gape at the figure on the map. The figure appearing to her as a tombstone rather than as a small flag.

“You must be strong, Inquisitor. We have all shared much loss together but we need you to stay focused. I am so sorry about your family.” Leliana finally looked up from the map but she knew Lavellan could not see her. It seemed like Leliana needed the reassurance that her Inquisitor could get through this. But it was too soon, much too soon to ask these things. She had hoped to motivate her to remain tough, but suddenly felt like she had been entirely insensitive.

Cullen ached for Lavellan. He could only imagine what must be running through her head right now. His own family was safe and far from the immediate dangers of the rifts and he felt his own baggage were miniscule in comparison to this moment for her. “What can I say to her?” He asked himself. Both Leiliana and Josephine were thinking similar things.

Her focus on the miniature on the map seemed to have her locked. Cullen enfolded his fingers around the miniature and removed it from the map. Her face contorted painfully. No one was sure whether she was about to scream in anger or cry out in sorrow. Her face was often calm, but came to life with the ferocity of her people in battle. This was as intense, but the result was uncertain to them all. She reached out to the Commander, asking for the miniature with a slow motion of her hand. He gently placed the miniature in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “My…my condolences.”

She knew that if she spoke her eyes would betray her and she would begin to cry. The pressure of tears and a quivering lip threatened every second she tried to remain calm and collected because she thought it would be easier for everyone in the room, including herself. With her one free hand she gentle removed Josephine’s comforting grasp from her arms. The sorrow was sudden and she found herself wishing she could be going into shock instead. She was beginning to search through her head for a spell to bring her relief, but found none.

She nodded, as if though simply acknowledging the situation and turned on her feet towards the door. Leliana reached her at the door and looked into her face. “If you need anything, anything at all…” The Lady Inquisitor turned quickly, and left the room with even more haste.

All three of the advisors watched her leave with heavy hearts and heard her step go from a quick walk to a hurried canter in a manner of a moment. When silence was in the hall, everyone felt the oxygen return to the room.  
Cullen sat down with a thud in the closest chair. His fingers found the spot between his eyebrows and kneaded the skin there, as if though it could relieve the strain. “Maker, we could have done better,” he sighed.

“Could we have, Commander?” Leliana asked. “I truly believe we did our best and that somehow, all of this must be the Maker’s will. Poor Lavellan, she must be so crushed. I think it would be good if we could give her a little time to herself. Take up some of her duties here so that she can reflect a little.”

“Maker’s will…?” he snorted in distaste, “…I wouldn’t suggest that to our Inquisitor. I suspect you’d end up on the bad end of her good will.”

The three spend the next span of time working in their somber moods. They cleared Lavellan’s tasks to give her some time over the next few days. They also made arrangements for the retrieval of the clan’s bodies. None of them knew Dalish funerary customs for her clan and felt that was something she would have to inform them on, but that can wait for the moment.

Cullen frowned as he looked out the war room windows. He wondered if he should check on her or if that would be encroaching too much on her personal space. “I wonder how she is right now.”

The corner of Josephine’s mouth perked up into a sad smile. “Upset, no doubt.”

Leliana sighed, “You would think her leaving means she would like to be alone, but perhaps one of us should check on her. See if she needs anything.”

“Perhaps.” Cullen agreed as he continued to look out the window at the snow covering the landscape. 

Josephine walked over to Cullen. They glanced at each other for a moment and then shifted their gazes outside the glass of the windows. “Cullen, you are familiar with the Inquisitor aren’t you?”

“Familiar?” He questioned. Josephine’s smile broadened and her eyes met his with playful accusation. What was she getting at and why was it pointed at him? “What do you mean, Lady Montilyet?”

“Forgive me if I am reading into things, but the two of you seem fond of each other. I thought that maybe, if you were both inclined towards one another that perhaps you would be best suited to offer her comfort.” Cullen wondered if Josephine had noticed things or was simply being her usual diplomatic self.

“I suppose her and I are on good terms, yes…” He said with a little uncertainty as to what he meant by “good terms.”

Leliana smiled and let a small chuckle escape her lips, “Oh Cullen, don’t be so modest. One does not need to be a spy master to notice that you and she are on your way to being the gossip of Skyhold.” Cullen looked at her with alarm and embarrassment.

“Gossip of…no. No, it’s not like that! She is a most remarkable woman but I would never presume to…” His hand covered his eyes. “Maker.”

“Leliana is right though, you have become close with our Lady Inquisitor. Your games in the garden, the way you both glance at each other and smile from time to time, not to mention that dance in Val Royeaux… I am not trying to tease you, Commander, but if there was anyone who might bring her comfort right now, I suspect it might be you.”

Cullen sighed deeply, “Very well.”

~+~

Continue to part two!


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen sees to the Lady Inquisitor through the night.

The Commander could hear no defining noise as he walked down the hallway of the keep to her personal quarters. The glow from her fireplace set a dim light into the hallway as he approached. He made his way up the stairs into the main compartment of her room and knocked on the wood of the banister before entering her space.

“Lavellan, it’s me, do you mind if I come up?” He could see her leaning her forearm and forehead against the stone mantel of the fireplace, quietly peering into it. She made an affirmative sound but remained in her position, caught in the warm glow of the fire.

He approached her slowly and tried to get an angle of her face so that he could try to determine her mindset. He could see the shine of recent tears on her cheeks and the enflamed color of her eyes. Though not crying at the moment she was sorrowful to look upon and he felt deeply pained on her behalf.

He laid a hand on her back and followed her gaze to the fireplace. He had no words for her. Asking if she was “ok” felt like a ridiculous question a mere few hours after learning her clan was no more. He also was unsure there was anything that could be offered to her for comfort. Words seemed meaningless and there were none that could convey the sentiments he truly wanted to offer. He hoped his presence would suffice.

Moments passed in quiet contemplation in front of the fire. Slowly she turned her face from the fire to look at him, and he returned the gaze. His eyebrows were drawn together in sympathy and he frown deeply when he finally got a good look at her face. “I am so, so sorry.”

Her pale hand reached out to the fur of his cloak and tugged gently at him to come closer. With a little uncertainty opened his arms to her, offering her comfort in his grasp if that was what she was asking for. She leaned into him and accepted his offer. The moment she was held, a quivering sigh escaped from her. She did not want to cry again. As much as part of her wanted to be alone right now, she was grateful for his companionship. For some time they stood with one another. She was enfolded in his arms and he wished that he could help her more than this. 

Soon she felt exhausted on her feet and she pulled away from him. She walked over to the couch near the stairwell and sat down heavily with exhaustion waving over her. She reached out to him again with her hand and her sad, sad eyes. “Will you sit with me?” She asked softly. “Please.” Cullen nodded. “Of course.” He pulled his cloak from him and wrapped it around her before sitting beside her. She did not hesitate to lean into his side, rest her head on his chest, and pulled the fur of his cloak around her. She did not mind the hardness of his armor. It was cool and almost refreshing against her cheek which was feeling overheated from her recent tears. 

Eventually Cullen offered to remove his armor. “I doubt I’m very…comforting with a layer of metal between us.” She made a similar affirmative noise as she had earlier and also took the moment to remove her boots. When Cullen had been relieved himself of his armor he got a good look at her in his deep red cloak. She seemed small within it. Though an elf, she always carried herself with the best posture. He was only slightly aware that she was of short and lithe stature, but you’d never know it at first glance. The Inquisitor was normally a woman with an intense presence, larger than life. Now she seemed truly mortal, vulnerable, and less like the legend known as the Herald of Andraste. It was easy to hold her, and far from unpleasant. He joined with her again on the couch and pulled her against him. She accepted without the slightest restraint. She wrapped an arm around him, pulling the cloak over to cover them both. Skyhold was always a little bit cold, even within the more luscious room of the Inquisitor.  


However, in this moment they both felt incredibly warm and in a capsule of comfort. She felt herself instantly weaken within his grasp. The tears were going to come again and she wasn’t sure she could hold them back this time. He, on the other hand, felt a little conflicted. 

Though they had danced together before, and just a moment ago had embraced, they had never been as close as this. He felt a passing of guilt that this moment between them should come at the cost of her clan. There was a part of him that wanted to focus on the objectives of the Inquisition, but there was another part that could not help but dream that perhaps she and he could someday…maybe… No, this was inappropriate. He was both so happy to have her here, in his arms and seeking him out but he wished it wasn’t because of such a terrible cause. It wasn’t how he imagined this moment might occur.

As time passed he began to talk quietly to her. He reminisced to her about his vigil at the Ferelden Mage Tower. They were light stories about how he had always found the templar’s garb restricting and that the, ehem, skirts seems like a poor choice for potential battle. He’d been a fan of whatever the cook did with the mushroom pies, though others frowned because they knew mushrooms were a sign that the meat in storage was getting low. He commented about how sometimes the circular steps of the tower made him feel off balance and that he has been grateful that Kirkwall architecture was more inclined to straight lines. More than once he looked down and saw the semblance of a small smile on her lips. In those moments he couldn’t help but hold her a little bit tighter and hope she didn’t notice how quickly his heart would beat. When it began to race he inwardly swore that he should have left his breastplate on.  


There was no knowing how long they had sat there together, but eventually she spoke, low, barely a whisper. “What went wrong? What happened?”

He let out a tired breath before speaking to her, “I think it was that strange lyrium. It can make people unpredictable, especially this unusual red variety. We don’t understand it right now, and it was a great disadvantage to us. Josephine is more than capable when it comes to diplomacy. I believe she did her best.” He carefully moved a strand of her hair behind her sharply pointed ear that had escaped the intricate style that pulled her hair back, “But she was not dealing with people in their right mind. We didn’t anticipate violence of this kind.” He tiled his head back and looked at the ceiling. He was certain that this had been unavoidable.

“I have been searching for the red lyrium on Varric’s suggestion. We’d been destroying it at every turn. Perhaps we should have been studying it…” She looked up at Cullen, his amber eyes giving her every consideration and all attention. “I feel like I got them killed because I was too aggressive in destroying every shard.” She could feel the tears forming again and her eyebrows knit together, fighting the flood of emotion. “Rule number one with all Dalish: knowledge is invaluable! How could I have strayed?” He could tell she clenched her fist into a ball against his chest. She continued to look into his eyes, pleading with him as if though he had the answers she seeked. His amber eyes shown as a honey brown in the dim light and caught hers with a softness that complimented the desperate intensity of her own. 

Then he saw something in her expression. It nearly caught him off caught. Her eyes, wide in question at her own perceived ill-choices suddenly smoldered and her face came closer to his, closing the gap between them quickly in what surely was meant to be a kiss. However, he couldn’t let it happen between them. Not like this. His hand came up and stopped her approaching lips with a soft grasp of her jaw. He felt the faintest touch of her lips before he had pulled her away. Cullen expressed a sigh that quivered with disappointment.

“Please, not like this.” His thump rubbed at her cheek and he hoped that his expression told her this wasn’t a no, but rather a ‘not right now.’ 

“I wouldn’t want you to regret…this.” The side of his mouth turned up, not in a smile but a sympathetic smirk. “You are in pain right now and I wouldn’t want you to do anything you might have misgivings about when the worst of this has diminished.” He knew that some people could become desperate to feel anything when loss hits them hard. He’d discovered many young mages in one another’s arms in dark corners and beneath stairwells the night before a Harrowing. Though he felt excitement from being the focus of her desires, he recognized the root of this desire. Pain.

Underneath their covers her hand gripped his shirt. She pressed herself into him, pleading and felt the tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “Cullen…please, kiss me. I need you to kiss me…” Were this any other moment he would have gladly obeyed her. He felt his skin tingle when he sensed her fingers curl under the collar of his shirt and touch his skin.

The battle hardened hand on her jaw became more rigid. His fingers slightly folded in the hair at the base of her neck. She could see the struggle in his face and even some alarm. She wanted him to let himself go, be weak with her and to give her what she wanted. Damn the consequences! “Kiss me!” she insisted.

His voice was ragged and low, “No.” He removed his hand from her face and sought the hand that was teasing his collarbone. He covered the hand with his own and spoke gently to her, “I could never, ever take advantage of you in this way. I will stay with you all night and any night you need me. In a little time, when the sharpness of this pain has dulled and you still want me to…to…ehem…” He cleared his throat, obviously nervous. His gaze dropped from her has he felt his cheeks fill with heat, “…if you still feel this way then we can talk about us.” His eyes returned to her and saw that she understood. The smoldering heat was gone and was replaced with something else.

He was right, she knew he was right. She had just terribly humiliated herself in front of him, hadn’t she? It was the last bit of weight on her heart that broke down the wall that kept her from sobbing. She sobbed, yelled, and left the pain come over her. The tear poured quickly down her cheeks, dividing into many salty rivers that covered her face. He removed the small distance he had set between them and pulled her, not merely into his chest, but into his lap and held her tightly. He could do this for her.

Cullen whispered into her ear and he clung to her almost as tightly as she clung to him. “Listen, listen…you didn’t do anything wrong.” As if he could read her mind he eased her sobbing. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I will be whatever you need and tomorrow and the day after that...” Oh Maker, did he want to kiss her and let her know how he felt. This was the wrong time and place. He wasn’t sure he’d ever let her know how he felt as he didn’t think she’d ever look at a human romantically. He’d quickly grown to respect her, and slowly over many months he reclaimed feelings he’d not had since that girl in the Tower. He had felt foolish many times when he’d suddenly be hit with a warmth towards her over the smallest of things. Sometimes it was the way she held her gaze with his and smiled. She had often held eye contact with him longer than was casual, and she never was the one to caste her eyes away first. Perhaps it was the dirt on her hands from working in the garden that sometimes transferred to the map.  
She’d leave and he would see the imprint of her fingers on the landscape and be reminded of her. Though he didn’t know if she did it for others she sometimes appeared at his desk to talk, or to steal him away for a game of chess. She would coax him into several games in a row and would lament when their time came to an end. When she had woken after the attack on Haven she seemed a little confused about the outpour of hopeful singing from their people. She had limped over to him and asked, “This sudden bursting out into song…this is a human thing, isn’t it?” He had paused in his own singing to address her but she had merely leaned on him for support and said, “I didn’t say you had to stop. You have a really nice voice.” These small moments had made him begin to see beyond her station as an elf, a mage and the Herald of Andraste. She was someone special to him, above others.

He hoped in the coming days that they would have that chat about “us”. For now he’d relish the moment and put his efforts towards being the best comfort to her. The night continued with the two of them enveloped in one another. Whatever feelings they had were flamed in one another’s embrace. Soon the Lady Inquisitor was asleep on the large couch with the Commander of the Inquisition and he followed her into dreams soon after.


	3. The Workings of Something Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen helped the Inquisitor through the night. Dorian tends to her in the morning.

It was not long before the many windows of Lavellan’s room were filled with light. Cullen stirred first to the feeling of a warm form cuddled next to him. He was more than pleased, minus the chill of his feet that were sticking out of the bottom of his cloak. 

He smiled at the slightly disheveled elf with him, but also felt a twinge of sadness that the night was over. He resolved to not move until she woke, which was quite some time away. He laid his cheek against her head and made a silent prayer to the Maker for her.

Cullen was a little guilty that it was late into the morning when someone finally sought to arouse the Inquisitor. He was startled to see Dorian peering at them through the rails of the stairwell, the frown under his mustache growing into a sly grin at the sight of them.

“My, my, my how long have you two been hiding this delicious news from the keep? You know, gossip makes the…something something or other.” The mage had a tray of food and tea in hand. Cullen had been informed that Lavellan and Dorian had grown close, and suddenly he felt a twinge of jealousy but also a little bit of pride because, well, she was in HIS arms right now.

Cullen adjusted himself, carefully moving into an upright position and trying not to wake the elf at his side. He heard the moan of wakefulness, and saw her nose crinkle in distaste. Dorian sat beside them both and set the tray on the table next to the couch. 

He kept his eyes on her, concern creeping into them. “I just heard the news this morning. I came to see if there was anything I could do for her. But I see…” Dorian’s looked up at Cullen with a smidgen of playfulness sparkling in his eyes,”…that you have been expertly assisting our fair leader. Well done.” He winked at the fair haired man.

“No, no, it’s not like that.” Cullen insisted.

“What’s it like then, exactly?” Dorian’s interest was piqued. 

The Lady Inquisitor was not going to be able to sleep with this chatting going on above her head. She slowly rose to an inclined position and found herself inches from Cullen’s face. The events on the evening seemed to roll through her mind and she felt herself get suddenly self-conscious. She pushed her legs over the side of the couch and entered into a sitting position between the two men. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but honestly wished she could retreat from the couch to her bed. She was keenly aware of Cullen, but also aware of Dorian’s seemingly magical appearance. Magical, ha.

Cullen shifted with equal self-consciousness. “Good morning, Inquisitor, I hope you are feeling…better this morning.”

Dorian cut in, “Well if she’s not feeling better, as you say, then I suspect we’d have you to blame, Commander. You’re both still wearing the majority of your clothes, tsk tsk!”

Lavellan snorted with good humor, though the sparkle in her eyes and energy she normally had was hidden away behind the very present feeling of loss. Dorian reached behind him and pulled a pot of tea from the tray. He quickly poured the steaming fluid into an accompanying cup and offered it to her. She took the cup within her hands and let the vapor waft up into her face from the cup. Dorian took one of her hands into both of his and spoke kindly, “I only just heard this morning about your clan. I wanted to let you know that I am sorry. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask me. Snacks, books, a disrobed ex-Templar…” Dorian winked at Cullen who immediately stood up from the couch in defense.

“Ok, ok, I get it. Thank you.” Lavellan removed her hand from his and patted the mage on his knee to thank him but to also quiet him. Once Dorian was on a sass dialogue it was hard to make him stop. Cullen felt himself flush with color. Disrobed ex-templar indeed! He did his best to hide his embarrassment but he was certain the color in his cheeks were going to be around for awhile.

“I have also come to inform that your advisors saw fit to divvy up your paperwork last night among themselves so that you can take some personal time. Speaking of which, doesn’t a certain Commander need to get to work?”

Cullen had already stood up and retrieved his armor so that he could look more presentable. “Yes. I should be going.” He thought maybe the two of them wanted to be alone. Cullen was completely uninformed on the fact that Dorian’s romantic interests lie...elsewhere. He knew that the Inquisitor and Dorian spent a great deal of time together. It’s only natural that, being mages they would be drawn to one another. It seemed to escape him that Dorian was human, she was an elf, and that he had used race as an excuse for why she’d never be interested in him. He had work to do and desired a hasty exit, lest things get awkward. He looked at the two of them and noticed how close they seemed. Dorian’s arm was wrapped around her offering her his support. She did not seem the least bit uncomfortable with the contact. He turned away, lest they notice his grimace. Here he was, being unreasonably suspicious after the evening he'd had with her. He had no right, he reminded himself. These thoughts seem to strike the burning flame from his cheeks and cool his general expression.

Lavellan noticed Cullen preparing to take his leave. She handed her tea back to Dorian and approached Cullen, who paused in buckling his gauntlets when she touched his arm. “Cullen, thank you for staying with me. Last night could have been much worse. I’m glad you came to see me.” She’d rarely used his name over one of his titles or Varric-concocted-nick-names.

He patted her hand on his arm. His voice was a little husky when he replied, “Like I said last night, anything you need…”

“Knight Templar, Commander of the Inquisition, and Expert Pillow. A man of many talents it seems.” She seemed to sense his discomfort and immediately diffused it. Dorian bursted out laughing from the couch, nearly tipping the tea in his hands. Cullen couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“Expert Pillow? I hope that doesn’t get around to the soldiers. I’ll never be able to train anyone again.” He resumed his task of putting on his armor. "They'd think me...soft." The faintest whisper of a laugh emerged from her lips at his comment. He was not exactly the best with jokes, but it seems this one had worked out for him. When he’d finished he realized she was still looking at him with a warm expression tinged with the sadness that would probably grace her face for some time. He felt less uneasy about leaving her now. Something was between them and he could see it in her face. “Inquisitor.” He nodded to her, signifying his leave and his return to being the Commander.

As he moved down the stairs of her room, she followed him and peered down at him from the top step. “Cullen!” He looked back to see her disheveled hair wild around her face, a few buttons of her shirt undone, and her eyes wide. “I’d like to have that talk soon. About us. I haven’t forgotten.”

He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He smiled up at her, hoping that when the time came he would be able to accept her decision with grace. “I look forward to it.”

When Cullen departed Dorian was smiling slyly on the couch. “Here I came to offer you my comfort, but it seems you were in good hands. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were on your way to a scandalous love affair.”

Lavellan sighed. “I can only hope.” She joined him on the couch and accepted that cup of tea for a second time. One of Dorian’s eyebrows rose in curiosity and his mustache twitched at her reveal.

“So you _do_ fancy Commander Cullen?” She nodded into her tea, affirming his question. “I never thought you’d get over my good looks and charm, but I’m glad to see you picked a fine specimen of rippling hair and tightly packed abs as my replacement.” The elf sputtered her drink a good three feet in front of her. There was a time she was greatly interested in him, but Dorian was not interested in the her…that way. Oddly enough, it was a huge contributing factor as to why they had become the closest of friends. There was no hidden subtext! Though a little disappointed she had accepted him immediately. It was a rare thing for someone to except him as not only a mage, but one from Tevinter with a particular affection towards men.

“I think he feels the same way about you.” Dorian smiled before putting his hands to use pouring himself a cup of tea. “I’m sure it’s a piss poor consolation at a time like this though.”

It was a small consolation, Dorian was right. Cullen had also been correct as well. She needed time to reflect on the loss she was feeling and to not complicate matters with…other equally complicated emotions. She took the next few days to weep and reminisce. She informed her war counsel on the funerary customs of her clan and sought to have the dead laid to rest. Her grief soon became more quiet and expressed itself in the form of over sleeping, too much time soaking in a metal bathing basin and gazing out over the mountains from her balcony. She had a visit from Cole who knew exactly what to do in order to give her heart a jump start to healing.

Eventually the day came where she sought out Cullen for that discussion about one another. It had finally been the right time for stealing a kiss, but this time it was he who stole it from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some nice feedback from some readers on here and on facebook. Chapter 3 was my hard ending but I may continue it with other short stories. Thanks everyone!


End file.
